Preparation

I've just gotten in touch with my host family. They have a daughter around my age and a son around my brother's age, so I'll be in good company. I'll be bringing my violin along, and my host family is going to let me practice, so that's very exciting.

Liliya, my host, who has done a similar exchange program in America, wrote me a Facebook message in very good English, so I'll probably feel the usual embarassment speaking primitive Russian to Russians who speak close-to-fluent English. Now, absurdly, I want to break out my high school Russian textbook, "Nachalo," mere days before I leave for Kazan, and try to make sense of the Genitive case once and for all. I guess that's what plane rides are for.

Anyway, hearing from Liliya about her family inspired me to write a little about my family. We live in an old, terminally funky house in Conway, MA:

There it is (Conway, that is), sitting squarely in Franklin County, with its large amount of land and small amount of people.

This is my dad, and my gecko, Milo. My dad likes to sleep. Milo likes to climb on people, with or without their knowledge or consent.

This is my sister and I, several years ago at my cousin's bat mitzvah. She is several years older than me and also a musician.

This is my family at my school's prize assembly: My brother is on the left. He's 15, and is currently into bass playing, frisbee playing, piano playing, and running.

I depart for the orientation tomorrow. I'm writing this from the coffeeshop in Conway where I actually get internet, and soon, too soon, I will have to walk back to the house and start the packing frenzy.

Do svidanye,

Lysander